In Spite of All Terror
by Under the Ice You Will Believe
Summary: King Hyrule has declared war upon the Fiendlord after believing he received revelation through a dream Magus would summon a demon with the purpose of conquering the earth. Many nations, heeding Hyrule's call, are gathering their forces to aid against the sinister wizard. Magus, meanwhile plots to take the king and his daughter down as armies approach his Keep.
1. Its Heart and Head

"_**Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.**__**"**_

_**-Winston Churchill**_

* * *

General Slash's boots pounded against the stone floor. The small imp steward's shoes tapped along behind. The echoes of both resounded from the darkened walls and around the great, hollow space, their hurry setting lazy dust motes swirling through bars of moonlight. Garrett's own boots, worn and lithe from long use, made no sound whatsoever.

"Upon entering the presence of the Fiendlord," the steward's words frothed energetically out, "you approach him with no sudden movement, you do not make eye contact with him, you stop before the first step of his throne, at no point do you speak until spoken to, you-"

Slash snapped over him. "Will you cut your prattling? The Fiendlord does not care for proper formality in a state of emergency." Two black-liveried guardsmen lifted their crossed halberds to let them pass, and Slash shoved the doors open.

The hall beyond was dauntingly vast, icy, dark. Fit for the throne room of one who fashioned himself the Fiendlord. But Garrett had stood in darker rooms, before darker beings, and had no fear left in him. Two columns of unlit candelabrum, four meters wide, stretched away down the stone floor, a summoning glyph inscribed in the middle. A high dais rose beyond it, a dozen men in full armor standing guard in front. Upon the dais was an obsidian chair. Within the chair was the Great Fiendlord, Magus. He was a whitish-blue haired, stone-faced, hulking mass of muscles wearing boiled leather armor and gloves with bare forearms exposed, baggy purple pants that would have looked comical on anyone else, sharp black polished boots, and a dark-blue cape draped behind him. Certainly not what one would expect if told he was an old warlock.

A strange and sinister selection of people, two dozen or more, of many races, sizes and shapes, surrounded the dais in a wide arc. Garrett knew some few of them by sight and smell. Killers. Thugs. Mercenaries. The most wretched collection of filth one could lure out by the glint of a gold coin.

He glided through the half-circle of assorted psychopaths precisely before the first step of the throne that held the legendary wizard. He watched General Slash stride past the guards and up the steps to the throne, lean to whisper in Magus' ear while the steward took up a stern pose at his other side.

The Fiendlord stared at Garrett with his piercing red eyes for a long moment and Garrett stared back, the hall cloaked all the while in that oppressive silence that only great spaces can produce. "So this is he. Would you remind me his surname?" A deep voice, one that Garrett imagined would send shivers down a regular man's spine.

"He has none," said Slash.

"Oh? Few people have merely a single name. What makes you special?"

"Nothing," said Garrett.

"But surely you have family?"

"No."

Magus's eyes narrowed. "Surely you had to have been raised by someone?"

"Some tried."

"And?"

"And I have no family."

"Pity. King Hyrule has declared war on me."

"Sorry to hear."

"You do not sound sorrowful."

"Not my war."

"No, but if you accept this job, it will. You come to me with the highest recommendations."

Garrett said nothing.

"That business with Lord Constantine-whom I know to have been the pagan god, The Trickster- I understand that was your work. It is said that the thing that was left could hardly be called a corpse."

Garrett said nothing.

"It was you who retrieved The Eye in the first place?"

Garrett stared into Magus' face, and said nothing.

"You do not deny it?"

More nothing.

"I like a tight-lipped man. A man who says little to his friends will say naught to his enemies."

Silence.

"The King of Hyrule has fancied himself a prophet, but in truth is a walking corpse afflicted by the rattles. He is convinced I am trying to summon an ancient demon with the purpose of destroying the world. He claims to have seen it in a dream. Normally, I wouldn't so much as bat an eye at mental instability in an old man. However, he has chosen to act upon his mad seizures. Many of my friends and associates, my ambassadors, were put to the sword at his command. He marches upon my country as we speak. I am not amused." His voice was quiet but foreboding as an ominous thunderstorm. Every person in the room flinched at what they knew was coming. "I need you to poison him, but that's not enough! The whole country must suffer. I need you to hit them where it hurts the most. The one the people-even foreign ones-love the most."

"His daughter, then."

"Princess Zelda!" Magus smashed the arm of his chair with his fist. "I must make an example of her. Bring her to me."

"Many nations, especially those who took The Oath with Hyrule, will howl for your blood."

"Let them howl. If I am to be the world's newest boogeyman, I should play the part proper."

"It may be necessary for me to use some of your resources."

"Whatever it takes. Cut off the country's head and carve out its heart. Poetic, no?"

"Its head and heart, then."

"What will be your advance?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing!?"

"If I complete the job, you will pay me one-hundred thousand in gil for the corpse of the king. For his daughter, I get Shadow Island, the place south of this keep. That is my price."

"A very high one!" yelped the steward. "What would you do with an entire island?"

"I will make it a grave site for little imps who like the sound of their own voice and ask stupid questions. You will find no employer, anywhere, unsatisfied with my work." Garrett moved his eyes slowly to the half-circle of degenerates at his back. "Or you could pay one of these fine gentlemen to hang themselves before all of Hyrule's citizens."

"I will," said Magus. "If first, you hang."

"I would accept no other arrangement, your Lordship."

"Good," growled the Fiendlord. "Go, then. The Black Wind moans each moment you delay!"

"You are dismissed!" screeched the steward. Garrett turned and walked back down the way lined by the candelabrum towards the great doors.

One of the killers blocked his path, a man of average height but wide as a door, muscle showing through the gap in his dark shirt. His lip curled. "You are Garrett? I expected more."

"Pray you never see more."

"I don't pray."

Garrett leaned close, showing the gleaming metal of his mechanical eye normally covered by his hood. "Start."


	2. A Link to the Last

Link ducked through the trees, stumbling and slipping on the grass, breath heaving in his lungs, blood pounding in his head. He was desperately trying to pull his sword from its sheathe. He stood there panting, gazing back through the ghostly forest.

His uncle had been with him only a moment before, he was sure, but there was no sign of him now. Some nephew he was, letting his uncle go out to get timber from the Lost Woods. He should have been sprinting back to their house in Kakariko, but the moblins were all around. He could sense them moving between the trees, their smell greeting his nostrils. Link lay down putting his ear to the ground. He heard the sound of many boots scuffling to his right, fighting maybe. He crept slowly to his feet, trying to stay silent. A pinecone crunched and he whipped around.

An axe was coming straight for his head. A woodcutter's axe, coming at him fast with no one at the other end. Was that his uncle's?

"Agh!" said Link. He threw himself to the side, fell on his arm, and rolled upright, briefly catching sight of the axe implanted in a tree behind. He scrambled up, breathing hard. A moblin readying a curved blade came into view. Link slithered behind a big tree trunk. He peered out and the moblin swung at him. He exposed himself on the other side, just for an instant, then ducked away, jumped around the tree and stabbed his sword out, screaming loud as he could. There was a crunch as the blade buried itself deep in the moblin's armor and through its ribs.

The moblin screamed, trying to swing its own blade at Link. Then it started to sway, black blood dribbling through the newly-created hole. Then it dropped like a stone, dragging the sword away from Link's fingers, thrashing around on the ground at his feet. Link grabbed hold of his sword-handle and dragged the blade out scraping against the giant pig-man's breastplate.

Link felt a shadow fall across his face. Another one. A massive one. Coming straight at him. A massive hammer inexorably traveling over its shoulder down at Link. No way was he going to fight this thing and live.

He rolled away just as the hammer was inches away from him; he heard a loud thud and felt the ground quake beneath his boots. He stumbled and dropped his sword. He scanned the ground for it, but the big bastard was already rounding on him.

Against every instinct, Link sprang at the creature, arms outstretched. His weight was barely enough to cause the moblin to stumble back. Its boot caught a tree root and the pig went falling back taking Link with him.

They crashed to the ground, rolled through dirt and the brown leaves, ripping and beating and snarling at each other. He tried wrapping his hands around the pig's neck, but it was too thick. They rolled on, and on, down a hill. Then the ground vanished and they were in were in the air.

Link flailed pointlessly as he fell. Gray water coming up to meet him. Fast. All he could do was pray it wasn't shallow.

He caught site of the large moblin hitting the water with a loud crash and little splash. It was shallow.

Link made contact with the river flat on his stomach. He was stabbed by hundreds of small pebbles with the power of a charging horse. Thank the goddesses they were pebbles. He still felt a sharp pain in his chest while attempting to stand up. Probably broke a rib or two.

There was a loud squeal.

Link turned around. The big moblin was there, laying back in the river, not moving. Something was wrong.

True it was big and true it took a hard fall, but the pig-men were known to be tough. They were definitely tough enough to survive a tumble down a small ravine. Link inched closer to the giant, taking care to keep his distance should it be feigning death.

It wasn't.

There was an arrow shaft sticking out of its chest. It had plunged directly into the beast's heart at an angle suggesting it had been shot by someone on the rocks above. A shot that could easily be taken again.

Link trudged through the water to a distant boulder in the river, dripping blood from his cuts and gashes. All the while praying to the goddesses the shooter only hated moblins, but there was no telling with the variety of marauders that roamed the Lost Woods.

He reached the rock and ducked behind it. He didn't know why he bothered to hide. If the unseen archer was up that far, all he'd have to do was aim just a wee bit higher and Link would be on his way to meet Farore. Sometimes you just felt like covering yourself even if it was pointless.

Minutes passed and he was still alive. Bruised and cut, but alive. The shooter apparently only hated moblins, or at least apparently didn't hate Hylians.

"Hello!" Link shouted. His voice echoed across the ravine. He possibly just stupidly lured a bunch of other pig-men to him, but with the pain and fatigue he was feeling, he just plain didn't give a damn.

Minutes passed and there was no reply and he was still alive. Bruised and cut and confused, but alive. The shooter apparently only hated moblins, or at least apparently didn't hate Hylians but did not care enough to respond to them.

Link got out from behind the rock. He slowly made his way back through the shallow river, his torn leg screaming at him to fall.

"Hello?"

Silence.

He slogged over to the big moblin's corpse. He took the black arrow shaft in both hands and tugged. He made sure he wasn't bending it too much. It came out with a jolt.

After wiping the black blood from it, he studied the arrow. The fletching was red. The shaft was some sort of material Link had never seen or felt before. Not wood, not steel. Harder than both though. He'd have to show it to someone.

"I got your fancy arrow! Come out if you want it!" said Link once again to the rocks above. Nothing.

Whoever it was had either already run off or was good at making absolutely no sound whatsoever. Not even a breath. Despite the river's noise, Link should still have been able to hear breathing from that high with his enhanced ears. Most likely his savior was now gone.

He had to go back to Kakariko. He had to hope his uncle escaped the moblins. He had to hope there weren't any other moblins left. That was a lot to hope for when he knew he had none. It was just his luck that he'd be ambushed by the pigs right as he caught up with uncle Alfon.

They'd known it was dangerous in the Lost Woods. They'd known unspeakable creatures roamed its very depths. It shouldn't have been any surprise that many of the dangerous pig-men made its home right on the border.

Link reached the trail head… head… his head was getting light. His damn leg and chest were burning with pain. Thoughts weren't coherent. Cuts were leaking blood. World was going black. Ground was coming up at him.

He needed to rest just for a few minutes…


End file.
